


Friends (or the closest thing to it)

by sunandoceanblue



Series: Thursday Nights, 2100 [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Hux and Phasma are bros, Kinda, Kylux - Freeform, Phasma Ships It, first order trinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunandoceanblue/pseuds/sunandoceanblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thursday nights, 2100. Always on time.</p><p>Late night hang outs with Hux and Phasma and alcohol, ft. Kylo, sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends (or the closest thing to it)

**Author's Note:**

> It's late and I probably haven't edited this as much as I should but I really wanted to write about Hux and Phasma, who are totally my new broTP

He didn't many any friends, hardly any at all.

Tragic, really, he supposed, but then again, to a superior man such as General Hux friends weren't exactly a priority, not in _his_ grand schemes, anyway. He simply wasn't a nice enough person to have friends. He just didn't connect. Most were put off by how objective he was, especially on an emotional level. How did one befriend someone who held such little care for trivial things such as kindness and affection? Answer: You just didn't.

So, yes, Hux had little in the way of friends and it didn't bother him in the slightest.

That being said, he had to admit, almost begrudgingly, he appreciated the few friends he did have.

He liked to think of Ren as a friend. Sometimes. But honestly, he loathed that disaster of a man most of the time (and when he didn't they were doing things respectable friends would hardly do with one another).

He had Phasma too. And unlike Ren, he thoroughly liked and respected her. And the feeling was quite mutual too. He wasn't sure how many friends she had – despite her stoic appearance, she could be quite _friendly_ when she so desired – but to Hux, she was one of his closest.

They saw each other almost every day. They talked almost every day. They complained about Ren almost every day.

But that _work_.

* * *

Thursday nights, 2100. Always on time. Hux strolled down the near empty hallways, save for the occasional stormtrooper on patrol. He was dressed down in his white, collared undershirt, sleeves neatly rolled to his elbows, and a pair of grey trousers, looser fitting than that of his uniform. He wouldn't be surprised if he went unrecognised without his uniform. And as much as he adored it, it was rather nice to be in a more _casual_ attire – at least casual for him.

He reached Phasma's quarters, rapping on the door with his left hand, his right curled around one of the bottles of brandy he had stashed away in his closet (and there was more where that came from). Alcohol was an unspoken tradition of course. He didn't have to wait long for the door to open.

It was always interesting to see Phasma out of her armour. She still carried herself fiercely, of course, never quite looking comfortable, never quite looking relaxed. Yet she there was a roguish beauty about her that had to be admired. If you were ever able to see her without her helmet, you would notice her cropped blonde hair had a bit of a wave to it. And that her eyes were framed with thick lashes. With her defined cheekbones and nose, and with her long limbs, she moved with complete grace and confidence. To put it frankly, Phasma was, well, pretty much gorgeous.

Some would argue Phasma was certainly more intimidating _without_ her armour and helmet. Because when she is wearing her helmet, you can't see the way her eyebrow arches when she is amused (an amused Phasma was _never_ a good sign.) You wouldn't catch the way her lip twitches when she's frustrated or disappointed. Yes, you would miss all these little quirks that make her seem so real and human and absolutely frightening.

There she stood, towering over him, in a grey singlet and black pair of leggings. Phasma offered a smile, brushing the loose strands of hair from her eyes. Her face glistened ever so slightly with sweat. Se must have been exercising. Of course. "I wasn't sure if you were coming," she said with a wry smile, stepping back from the door, allowing him entrance. Even without her helmet, her voice always retained the authorise tone; she couldn't seem to lose it. However, at the moment, she sounded as relaxed as someone like Phasma could be. "You looked overloaded with paperwork when I saw you last. "

Hux gave her a tight smile in return and entered the room. "Can't break tradition. I'll get all that done."

He would always be surprised with how cluttered her room was. Not exactly messy, just full. There were lots of books. Stacks of them. She would always complain about not having a big enough bookcase but no one seemed to be giving her another one.

There was also a lounge and some arm chairs on left side of the main room. All dark blue with matching patterns, along with a coffee table covered in paperwork. On the other side of the room was a large desk, with more paperwork. She had an assortment of plants littered all around her chambers, even in the bathroom.

On the floor was a pale green exercise mat.

Phasma chuckled, and it almost sounded embarrassed. "Sorry, General, I started my routine a little late today." She hopped down to the ground and began to hastily roll up the mat.

Hux hardly minded. "What was on the agenda today?"

"Yoga," the Captain replied with a grin, _that_ grin that made her seem so much more youthful and _lovely_ , eyes and nose crinkling up like a child, coy and innocent and playful all at once. This woman murdered upon command. She also had a infatuating smile. Though that second fact was less known. (And yoga, of course she was doing yoga; she strived to be perfect in all aspects of physicality.)

She stood up with the rolled up mat in her arms. "Now, why don't you pour me some of that brandy, General?"

* * *

Despite his cold nature, Hux was quite fine to be around. She was lucky, Phasma thought to herself, because he had taking a liking to her. Sometimes she pitied all the other troopers and orderlies that had to suffer Hux's wrath. Though no violent and volatile like Lord Ren, Hux's sharp barks and condescending sneers could leave people in _tears_ (and on several occasions she had consoled people who had been mercilessly torn apart by the General).

The man was ridiculously narcissistic, but he was still excellent at holding up conversations that weren't about himself and all his plans for the First Order and the galaxy. He loved to listen to Phasma's little adventures training the soldiers, many whom went as far as to consider her a mother figure, of sorts, which was strange but oddly endearing. He shared stories from his days at the Academy – though many times he spoke with pure objection, as if he were an outsider recollecting what had happened.

Neither of them were lightweights, so their conversations never turned too drunken. Perhaps that would have made things more interesting. They were, however, content with their little rendezvous. Maybe a little buzzed. But really, that just made them more talkative.

"Wait, wait," Hux said, holding up a hand and stifling a chuckle. "He didn't know it was you?"

"Lieutenant Barlow has yet to see me without my mask," Phasma replied with a thin, devious smile. "So he spent the whole lunch break bitching and moaning about how 'unjustly strict Captain Phasma has being _all_ morning' and making PMS jokes."

"Ah, PMS jokes. How wonderfully original."

"Exactly my thoughts, General. Anyway, I'm going to bide my time on this one. However, I want to file a complaint on how rude some of these officers around here are."

"Feel free to do so. All complaints are thoroughly assessed and dealt with accordingly." The General screwed up his nose. "Usually by me."

There was a heavy, inconsistent knock at the door. The two shared a glance. There was only one person that could be this late in the evening.

Hux leaned back against the couch, ankle resting on his knee. "If you don't answer," he said casually, eyes on his glass, "he'll either override the codes or break down the door with that ridiculous saber of his."

Phasma sighed, rising from her seat. "Always fashionably late," she muttered as she padded to the door, pressing the correct keys on the pad to open it.

He wasn't wearing his mask. Which wasn't a surprise, not really anymore. She's seen him without it enough to adjust to his face. Honestly, when she first saw Lord Ren unmasked, she didn't know _what_ she was expecting – scars and disfigurement? – but it _wasn't_ what she saw. She almost couldn't believe that this man, this young man, with wide eyes and unruly hair was the same mass murderer in a mask she worked alongside.

"Good evening, Lord Ren," Phasma greeted. It wasn't cold or sarcastic but it wasn't cheerful. It wasn't really anything. She was careful around him, always, trying to remain neutral. Did he consider them friends? Did she? She wasn't afraid of him or his infamous tantrums, she just preferred to avoid them so she could also avoid the aftermath of Hux complaining relentlessly. "What brings you here?"

But she already knew. It was always the same. They never formally invited Kylo. He would just migrate to them, sensing where they were. It wouldn't be every time the hung out together; only the times the knight was feeling lonely. (And General Hux and Captain Phasma were the closest things to friends he had, even if he didn't consider either of them friends.)

"Am I interrupting anything?" He asked lowly, his eyes trained strictly to the ground.

"Of course not." She stepped away from the doorway. "Come on in."

Ren shuffled in, mumbling what sounded like a thank you.

Hux sat up straighter. "What a lovely surprise," he drawled, raising his glass. "Come, join us."

But Kylo never joined in on the conversation, really. Neither Phasma nor Hux expected him to. Hux's offer was merely an invitation to join him on the couch. Though he probably would have sat their anyway, regards of who invited him to take a seat.

Ren sat very close to Hux, almost curling into his side. As mentioned, he sought them out when he was feeling particularly lonely. And Hux was most likely the only person who could endure having Ren _this close_ to him.

Phasma said nothing. She had a fairly obvious idea of what went on between them – because she had been searching for the signs and waiting for the moment she could prove it to be true. However, she knew their most intimate moments came when they were in absolute privacy. She didn't expect them to sit in her couch, holding hands, sharing pecks and chatting cheerfully (though she had to admit, that would be an adorable sight to witness).

So the General and the Captain continued to converse, while the Lord sulked silently. Ren's appearance made no difference; they still spoke of anything and everything. Hux would chuckle quietly, always sounding cold and forced, even when it was anything but, while Phasma was prone to throwing her head back and laughing gleefully. That woman had a wicked sense of humour, though she never very well when to conceal it in regards to her position. Even Kylo cracked the occasion smile, albeit small.

It must have been close to midnight when Hux finally rose from the couch, after nudging Ren away in a not so gentle manner.

"I should return to my quarters," he said as he stretched. "I have to finish that paperwork. And we all have to attend the conference on assault weapons tomorrow morning at 0900." He eyed Phasma. "We're going to be discussing the new line of blaster rifles that are being shipping in."

Phasma's eyes lit up briefly, also standing. " _Oh,_ new toys."

Lord Ren let out something that sounded almost like a groan but Phasma couldn't be sure. "Do I _have_ to go?" He muttered, lounging on the couch.

"It's mandatory. But I wouldn't be opposed if you _didn't_ show," Hux replied, crossing his arms before adding, "it's not like you contribute to anything anyway."

Ren scowled, looking less like a menacing Knight of Ren and more like a toddler who wasn't allowed anymore cookies. "Bite me, Hux."

"Maybe later."

Phasma smothered her laughs with a subtle cough. The two argued like a bitter old couple. Sometimes she suspected they forgot everyone else existed when they so much as uttered a word to one another. She wasn't sure if she found that oddly romantic or kind of terrifying.

After some prompting, a reluctant Ren finally rose from the couch, rubbing his eyes with his fist. Such a childish thing to do, Phasma mused but said nothing.

Ren slumped against the General lazily. "Will you carry me?" He asked, a slight mock to his tone but mostly he just sounded tired. _When_ was the last time he slept? A dangerous question to ask; the answer was never a good one.

"Not a chance, Ren," Hux replied swiftly, twisting his way out of the knight's grip, glancing at Phasma. "As always, pleasure spending quality time with you, Captain."

"The pleasure is all mine, sir," she replied, waving the two off.

"Good night, Phasma," Ren said, briefly meeting her eyes this time.

"Good night, Lord Ren."

They left. Whether they returned to separate quarters or to the same one, she didn't know nor care. It was late. And she needed to wash up for bed.

But not before she watered her plants.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to make this a series now.
> 
> Come pester me on [Tumblr](http://thesunandoceanblue.tumblr.com/)


End file.
